Some nights I can't find the right words
to make my feelings sound pretty
or string them all into poetry

tonight is like that
because I miss you way too much to even think straight.

Silence is a language in which I am fluent.
It does not require a sound,
but it is the invitation
for him to look me in the eye
while I spill out the stories
that lie within my gaze.

When time passes, and you don't write
Is it the words that call you in desperation
or you that seeks the words as a consolation?

The sun has let me know
that it envies the light in your eyes.
The moon is about to fall
and undo itself
so that I could stop whispering to it about you.

The air no longer dares to spin,
and rattle the trees
for it could not match the melody of your movements.

And I?
I am all of them combined.
I wish to let you know
that sometimes the east and the west
seem so far away from each other
and it makes me sad that you are not here
but oh how distance makes us love each other more
let us be in our own divine circles
basking in the mesmerizing sound of our heartbeats
longing to match each other in rhythm.

I was a different poet a month ago.
I was a different poet last week, as well as yesterday.
I am a new one today
with stories and emotions
that clash and fight with each other
that is why some days my poems are sad
others are happy
because it all depends on what side of me wins today.

Fling your scarf behind you,
cover your bruised shoulders my dear.
The world is a troublesome place,
not one for delicate skin like yours
which cracks at every splinter
that flies through the rough air
carrying words into your lungs
and choking you till the lines
between good and bad are blurred
and the taste of his lips remind you of poison.

I've seen people smile and cry in the same minute
then wondered,
" can love and hate could coexist as well?"
That's what I have been feeling for you ever since.